“You can tell about that later,” she said.  “Meantime you’d best forget your kit and come home this minute.  You’ve grown cruel rough and wild seemingly.  You want me after you.”

“I shall calm in fullness of time,” he told her, “and no doubt be the same as ever I was before this fearful affair happened.  I never thought to take off my clothes, nor yet wash again.  I’ve been like a savage animal with such troubles as I’ve suffered; but now, thank the watching God, my woes be very near passed seemingly, and I’ve got my honour and my pride and a wife and a home also.”

“Come back to ’em then!” begged Jenny, and the little creature put his spider arms around her and pressed her to his shirt.

“You must certainly wash again, and the sooner the better,” she said; then she kissed his hairy muzzle and patted his head and thanked the Lord for all His blessings.  As for Spider, he pawed her and called upon heaven and wept out of his dirty eyes.

“It is almost too much,” he said; “but mark me, I’ll never rest no more till I’ve took my revenge on that anointed devil from hell and torn his throat out!” Knowing the nature of the man, however, Jenny didn’t fret too much about that.  They went afore the master of the works presently, and being a human sort of chap, he took a sporting view of the situation and let Spider go along with his wife; which he did do.  He had certainly suffered a good bit one way and another, owing to his own weak-minded foolishness, and found himself meek as a worm afore Jenny and terrible thankful to be in sight of better times.

“I wanted to die, too,” his silly wife assured him; “but Providence knew better and saw the end from the beginning.”

“Providence shan’t be forgot,” promised Nicky.  “I’ll turn over a new leaf and even go to chapel I shouldn’t wonder—­after I’ve done in William Westaway.”

III

They spent that night at Plymouth, and she made Nicky scrap his clothes and get a new fit out; and the next day she took him home.  No doubt her yellow cat was terrible pleased to see the pair of ’em; but the home-coming had its funny side too, for none marked them arrive—­’twas after dark when they did so—­and they’d only just finished their meal, when come heavy footsteps up the path, and Jenny well knew the sound of ’em.

“’Tis Bill Westaway!” she said.  “He don’t know as I’ve been away and no doubt he’s found what he’s pretending to search for.  Slip in here, afore I let him come in, then you’ll hear all about yourself.”

There was a cupboard one side of the kitchen fireplace, and being quite big enough to take in Spider, he crept there, and his wife put home the door after him, but left a little space so as he could hear.  And then she went to the cottage door and let in the visitor.  ’Twas William sure enough, and his face was long and melancholy.